


the beautiful us

by yixingsaun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Artist AU, Brief Mention of Violence, Elementalists, Fluff, M/M, MAMA Powers AU, Pen Pals, Writer AU, brief angst, mostly soft boys falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 11:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yixingsaun/pseuds/yixingsaun
Summary: Jongin gets a letter from a familiar name.





	the beautiful us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unalteredmemory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unalteredmemory/gifts).



> to my prompter: i know this probably isn't what you expected but i hope you can enjoy it anyway!

Due to his profession, Jongin has acquired the unhealthy habits of working late and sleeping in until far past noon, but today there’s a persistent knocking at his door some time around ten in the morning.  He has no choice but to fumble for his glasses on the night stand and answer the door.  

 

It’s far too bright out for such an ungodly hour, and the man at the door is far too cheerful.  He has Jongin sign for a package and then he carries the big box inside for him.  On his way out, he tells him to have a nice day, but Jongin merely grunts in response.  It’s too early for him to act like a fraction of a human being.  He doesn’t even have the energy to feel shame about answering the door in his boxers.  

 

Now that he’s up, Jongin figures he might as well have some coffee and watch TV.  There’s always something to do, even if he tries his best to ignore it.  After eating a bowl of cereal and drinking his morning coffee, the pending deadlines begin to edge towards overwhelming, so he opens his tablet to look at his latest storyboard.  

 

His last chapter was posted only a few hours ago, and the reaction is great.  Rather than wait, his manager Yifan instructed him to start working as soon as possible so as much effort goes into it as possible.  He should work hard to not let down any of his fans.  He doesn’t want to disappoint them.

 

Jongin loves writing.  He loves drawing, and he loves his stories.  However, when the deadlines start drawing closer, he’s found it turns into more of a chore than something he enjoys.  After staring at a sketch of Sanha playing his guitar for fifteen minutes, he wonders if that’s even what a guitar looks like.  Are his hand positions correct?  Jongin had one when he was younger, but he sliced his finger on a string and was scarred for life.  He hasn’t looked at a guitar since.

 

Well, he figures, that’s why he has editors to check and beta the art.  His main responsibility is to draw the important scenes and give them a general idea of the plot.  Yixing has always been good at that.  And Jongdae, well, he’s nice to have around.  They’re due to arrive some time around three, so he has time to work.

 

He hums along to the theme song of _Friends_ as it plays on his TV screen and continues to sketch his storyboard.  He’s not really sure what should happen in the next chapter of _To Be Continued_.  Quite a few of his readers aren’t a fan of his character, Ah Rin, but he doesn’t understand why.  She’s so cute!  He just wants to squish her cheeks.  Is it because he’s hinted at a relationship between her and Eunwoo?

 

He decides that the only solution is to reinforce the fact that she’s cute.  There’s no way he’s going to alter his original plot just because a few kids wanted their oppa all to themselves.  Ah Rin is like the little sister he always wanted.  Instead, he ended up with an annoying older sister who always picks fun at his employment.  Sorry for not becoming a surgeon, Susan.  

 

Her name isn’t actually Susan.  That’s just the name he uses habitually when he’s annoyed.  He mentally apologizes to all Susans of the world.  

 

As he draws, Jongin tries to make Ah Rin’s feelings seem a little more dramatic.  Someone has complained about her looking too stoic all the time.  He doesn’t get why it’s a problem; she’s a teenage girl.  Teenage girls are weird.  Plus, sweet little Ah Rin has a right to any emotions she sees fit!

 

He glances at the time.  It’s still only noon.  There’s plenty of time to kill before he has to actually work.  Jongin saves his progress and turns off his tablet.  

 

The box on his coffee table is taunting him.  Jongin eyes it, wondering what exactly is inside.  His mother had called last week to tell him she was sending some of his old things over, but he can’t imagine why she didn’t just throw it all away.  Anyway, it seems like the perfect distraction from his work.

 

It takes a few minutes to find a pair of scissors to cut the packing tape.  He probably could have used a knife, but, as previously mentioned, he’s procrastinating.  Extra care is put into opening the box, and inside he finds a manilla envelope, a wooden cigar box, and some old art supplies.

 

Once again, he wonders why she didn’t just throw this junk out.  

 

Inside the envelope are some old comics he used to draw when he was younger.  Actually, he thinks as he squints down at them, these might actually be the first comics he ever drew.   _EXO PLANET_ , reads the one on top.  He drops the envelope on the table and reaches for the wooden box next.

When Jongin opens the box, there’s a stack of letters inside.  Some are folded up sheets of notebook paper while others are inside actual mailing envelopes.  

 

His father, back when his parents were still together, used to smoke often.  He had these boxes around the house everywhere, so Jongin borrowed one of them to keep his micron pens in.  However, when his parents divorced, Jongin began to put letters inside instead.  In times of trouble, he used to write to the only person that would understand.  

 

Some of these are just letters, talking about his day casually to a friend, and others are more intimate.  Jongin wrinkles his nose as he files through it all.  It’s been a long time since he’s written a letter like this― not since he left for college.  They’re all very… emotional.  He has long since hidden away that side of himself.  

 

At the very bottom of the box, he’s surprised to see a pristine white envelope with his name scrawled across it.  There’s no return address in the top corner, just a name.

 

_Do Kyungsoo._

 

+

 

Much of Kyungsoo’s life has been comprised of snippets, tidbits, vague concepts, and inconsistencies.  But for a long time, that was okay.  It was just… the way things were.  What did it matter if his pencil case was suddenly on his right side rather than his left?  If he woke up one day and he no longer had curtains but instead had blinds?  If he blinked an eye, and suddenly he was fourteen years old and on his way to his first day of high school instead of seven years old, napping under the tree behind his house?

 

No one around him ever questioned the way things were, so he figured it was best to stay quiet and keep on living.  

 

He was 15 when he realized something was wrong.  Or rather, one minute he was 15, helping Park Chanyeol write songs for their school’s musical.  Then, abruptly, he was 17, at prom, watching with wet eyes as Chanyeol slow-danced with Byun Baekhyun.  

 

Then, for a long time, he was nothing.  Sometimes it was like being asleep, but other times he just.... Ceased to exist.  Stopped moving.  Stopped breathing.  Perhaps it would have been kinder to be asleep, for he was aware of his state the entire time.  Somehow, he had awoken.  He was no longer a character―he was alive.

 

It was summer suddenly, and Kyungsoo was sitting at his desk, writing a letter.  He was still wearing his work uniform, his neck sticky with dried sweat.  

 

Kyungsoo did not know the truth, only that he was scared.

 

But _Jongin_ , sweet Jongin, was so excited.   _Art school_ , he said.   _I got accepted into art school.  I’m leaving in a few weeks._  

 

He must have read Jongin’s letter five times, reading and re-reading and wondering to himself how he could ever ruin Jongin’s beautiful mood by bringing up his own worries.  He took his time considering his response, but in the end it didn’t matter.  Kyungsoo froze mid-sentence.

 

+

 

Do Kyungsoo started out as a pair of eyes.  

 

When Jongin took his first actual art class (outside of school because his elementary school’s art teacher specialized in macaroni necklaces), he learned how to draw eyes.  No matter what art style, reference picture, or medium, he always drew the same eyes.  Round, double-lidded eyes with big brown irises and rich in sclera (Jongin looked up the word because someone commented on it and he had to make sure they weren’t insulting him).

 

As Jongin grew, so did Kyungsoo.  He grew from having eyes to eyes and a nose to eyes and a nose and lips.  Before long, he was a whole person complete with inaccurate proportions and unrealistically shiny eyes and a big heart-shaped smile.  

 

Some time around third grade, Jongin got into writing.  It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together and start creating comics.  

 

Young Jongin was admittedly not a popular kid.  He usually ate lunch alone and spent recess drawing by himself.  Unfortunately, he was probably hit in the head with a ball more than a couple times.  But, he survived.  

 

He survived elementary school, and middle school, and even high school.  He didn’t need friends in class because he made his own.  Eleven of them, in fact.  And his best friend of them all was a boy, a year or so older, named Do Kyungsoo.  

 

At first, he was content with writing Kyungsoo’s story, about him and his friends on their faraway little planet.  He gave them all stories, all lives of their own.  But then… he began to feel just a little lonely.  It was nice that they were all good and happy, but he wished he could share in it.  

 

So, Jongin began writing to Kyungsoo.  He always knew what Kyungsoo would say (after all, he created him), so it was easy to write back and forth.  Somehow it never felt monotonous to have to write their story; it felt like he was writing to a friend who lived far away.  And, well, that wasn’t so far from the truth.  

 

When Jongin was accepted to his dream school, he wrote Kyungsoo a final goodbye letter.  It was the end of an era.  Finally, he was able to start a new chapter.

 

Jongin isn’t sure where this letter has come from, but he opens the envelope with care, making sure he doesn’t rip anything.  Inside is a sheet of looseleaf paper with handwriting painfully familiar.  He scans the page, remembering hours of scrolling through font websites until he decided on the one that fit.

 

 _Of course you got in.  I can’t say it’s a surprise; I knew you could do it_ , the letter reads.   _I’m so proud of you, Nini.  Your hard work has finally paid off._

 

Jongin swallows hard around the lump in his throat.  Has his work paid off?  He looks around his generously-sized apartment, which is quite nice considering his circumstances.  He’s far from his days as a struggling intern.  

 

_Do you know what sort of classes you’ll take?  I don’t know much about colleges where you live.  Here, I take classes on ancient linguistics and rune drawing._

 

He snorts.  This is so… familiar.  It sounds a lot like high school Jongin.  He fishes through the couch cushions to find his phone and dials his mom’s number to ask if he’s being punked.  A letter like this… he would have remembered writing it.  

 

“Jongin!  It’s so nice to hear from you!”  His mother’s voice is much too loud, like she’s screaming into the phone.  She’s only recently gotten a smartphone, but her new boyfriend is at least savvy enough to teach her how to answer.

 

“Hi, Mom.”  He settles down onto the couch.  “I―”

 

“Is everything okay?”  She cuts him off, worry seeping through her voice.  “You never call me first.  You aren’t in the hospital or anything, right?”  

 

He lets out a dry chuckle.  “No, Mom.  I’m okay.”  

 

“You know I worry about you.  You’re always staying up so late.  That’s bad for your heart!  You aren’t a kid anymore; you should really take better care of yourself.”

 

_I can’t wait to see your new work.  I’m sure it will look as beautiful as ever.  You’ll send me pictures, right?_

 

“Jongin, are you listening?”  

 

 _I hope you don’t get too busy or forget about me.  You’ll still write me, right?  This might sound a little weird, but_ ―

 

“Yeah, I...”  His eyebrows furrow.

 

_Sometimes it feels like… I don’t exist.  Everything will just pause and then start going again, but in a different place.  Like a scratched DVD.  I’m… scared, Jongin.  Is everything gonna be okay?_

 

“Of course.”  There’s a long pause in which there is no response, so he says, “Mom?  Are you there?”

 

He pulls his phone from his ear to check to see if she’s still on the line, only to find himself staring at his home screen.  Sighing, he slouches back against the couch, only to realize… This _isn’t_ his couch.  

 

Slowly, Jongin looks up.  That’s not his coffee table, or his TV, or his abstract painting.  In fact, this isn’t his apartment at all.

 

+

 

Suddenly, the ice thaws.  Kyungsoo is 25, in a home that he doesn’t recognize, pouring a cup of coffee from a pot he doesn’t remember buying.  A container of honey sits on the counter; he hasn’t mixed it into his coffee yet.  There’s someone sitting on the couch― _his_ couch.  They have fluffy brown hair.  Ah, it must be Baekhyun.

 

“Um,” Kyungsoo clears his throat.  His voice is a little deeper than he remembers.  He’s a real man now.  “Do you want a cup?”  The cupboards in this house are lower; he can reach the mugs without too much stress.

 

“N-No,” an unfamiliar voice answers, voice cracking with something that sounds like panic.  “I don’t drink coffee.”  

 

Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut.  Usually when this happens, if he stops and thinks, the fake memories flood his mind.  They can be vague, translucent even, but they are always there.  However, he can’t figure out who the stranger is sitting on his couch.  

 

He sounds awfully nervous.  Is this a date?  Did he lure some poor unsuspecting kid back into his apartment?  Kyungsoo thinks he would remember something like that.  He doesn’t bring people home often.

 

“Okay.”  He stirs some honey into his coffee and places the jar back into the cabinet before rounding the island to get to the living room.  “Could I get you something else?  Tea?  Milk?”

 

“No, thanks.”  Kyungsoo must be imagining the boy’s shoulders shaking.  “Um…”

 

“Yeah?”  Kyungsoo sits down next to him on the couch and looks at him for the first time.  Tall, warm brown eyes, fluffy hair.  He looks kind of like a confused puppy.  

 

“Do you, um,” he clears his throat, “know how I got here?”

 

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow.  “I assume I invited you here.”

 

“To do what?”  His eyebrows furrow together, and he still won’t look Kyungsoo in the eye.  

 

‘Uh.”  To be completely honest, he has no idea.  He doesn’t even really remember the guy’s name, let alone allowing him inside his home.

 

“Great.”  He puts his face in his hands, and the curve of his shoulders is awfully disheartening.  Kyungsoo supposes this really isn’t a date.  If it is, it’s a pretty bad one.  Then again, he thinks, he’s been on worse.

 

Kyungsoo sets his mug on a coaster and sinks back into the couch.  “Wanna watch anime?”

  
  


Hinata is out there, doing That, but Jongin is too busy having a mental breakdown to appreciate his efforts.  Where _is_ he?  Who is this man?  Jongin can’t even sneak a peek at him out of the corner of his eye because God knows Jongin is too damn obvious in everything he does.  So, he sits quietly, fingertips tapping against his thigh, as Kageyama nails another serve.  

 

They’re a few episodes in when The Guy stands to refill his coffee.  “Are you sure you don’t want tea or something?”

 

For the first time, Jongin looks up.  His mouths open to form the words, but nothing comes out.  It’s-- _He’s_ \--

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

It’s generally cool in the apartment, but Jongin can’t stop sweating.  “Um, yeah. I’m. Good. Yes. Tea, please.”  

 

Jongin watches as Do Kyungsoo makes his way into his little kitchenette, as his oh-so-familiar hands press the buttons on what might be a futuristic microwave.  He looks different than Jongin remembers; he’s taller, stronger.  His quirks (that were mainly due to Jongin’s mediocre art skills) have smoothed out so his features fit nicely.  

 

“Honey?” he asks as he carefully removes the steaming mug from the maybe-microwave.  “Sugar?”  

 

Jongin stares for a moment before realizing that he’s talking about the tea.  “Honey,” he confirms.

 

With a nod, Kyungsoo takes a cute bear-shaped bottle from the cabinet.  Rather than a tea bag, he removes a small green tablet from a box and places it in the mug.  

 

This is a dream, Jongin thinks.  He isn’t in Kyungsoo’s apartment, of course not.  Kyungsoo lives in a colony in the mountains west of the Wu kingdom.  And the Wu kingdom is, uh, on Exoplanet, just outside the solar system.  How did he get so far from home?

 

Rather than squeeze the honey from the bottle, he twists off the cap and shakes out two more capsules and drops them in the mug.

 

Jongin isn’t really thirsty anymore.  He politely accepts the drink, but finds himself staring down at the foreign substance.  It _looks_ like tea, but there’s no tea bag, no little pieces of leaves floating around.  

 

“Kyungsoo?” he tries hesitantly.

 

“Yeah?”  Kyungsoo is looking at him, and oh _God_ Jongin has dreamed of this since he was eleven.  

 

“Um.” He looks back down at the cup.  “Thank you.”

 

Jongin might be imagining it, but he thinks Kyungsoo is smiling, just a little bit, as he presses play on the next episode.

 

+

 

Jongin is awfully self-aware, taking notice of every intake of breath, every blink, every exhale. He tries to pay attention, he really does, but it’s hard when a character from a comic he drew when he was like 12 is sitting next to him.

 

Wait, he thinks.  They watch Haikyuu on Exoplanet?  They have anime?  

 

Somewhere around episode 10, Kyungsoo checks his watch -- a beautiful gold, shiny thing with a touch screen and some writing Jongin doesn’t understand -- and hums. “It’s oh-eighteen hundred.  Are you tired of me yet?  I could make dinner.”

 

Dinner would sound good, but Jongin is a little stuck on eighteen-hundred.  He blinks.  Does a little math in his head.  Blinks again.  “You mean it’s 6 o’clock?”

 

Kyungsoo gives him a weird look.  “What are you, an Xeno?”

 

“What’s a Xeno?”

 

“You know, people who fetishize--”  Kyungsoo shakes his head, but he looks disappointed.  Jongin feels guilty for an unknown reason.  “Nevermind.  It’s getting kind of late.  You should probably head out before the solar flares--”

 

“The _what_?” Jongin is dead, really truly dead.  That’s the only explanation.  Either he’s dead or he’s dreaming, but when he digs his nails into his palm it hurts just like real pain.  

 

“You don’t get out much, huh?”  Kyungsoo rises and pads over to the fridge to pour himself a new drink.  “Up here in the mountains, we’re more exposed to solar flares.  Did you even bring a protective cloak?”

 

Jongin feels around his pockets, but all he has is his cellphone (no reception _or_ wifi) and a crumpled up piece of paper.  “No, I just have…”  He flattens out the paper and realizes it’s the letter.

 

“What’s that?” Kyungsoo glances at him over his shoulder as he squeezes a little tablet into his cup--honey.  

 

“Oh, nothing,” Jongin says, probably a little too quickly.  “It’s just… a letter.”

 

“Really?” The corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth quirks up into a smirk. “From who?”

 

As a writer, Jongin has a way with words.  “Um? I, uh, I mean.  Um….” Averting his eyes, he clears his throat.  “It’s from… a friend.”

 

“Cute,” he says, and Jongin’s ears heat up.  

 

“Um--I mean,” Jongin wants to punch himself in the face.  Why is he such a dweeb!

 

Kyungsoo turns his attention back to his drink.  “I used to write letters like that, a long time ago,” he starts.  “But he stopped writing back.”

 

“Kyungsoo.”

 

“He went away to college, and I never heard from him again.  Sometimes I wonder what he’s up to, but I don’t think he’d answer if I--”

 

_“Kyungsoo.”_

 

“What?”  Kyungsoo turns around, and Jongin is rounding the counter.  

 

“It’s me.”  The paper is held taut between his shaking hands.  “Jongin.”  

 

+

 

Kyungsoo sets Jongin up on the couch (originally he insisted on giving Jongin the bed, but eventually it was clear Jongin wouldn’t budge).  He’s still not really sure how Jongin got here; he knows that Jongin is from Earth and travel is nearly impossible.  But, you know, it is what is is.  He figures it’s best not to dwell on it.  

 

“So,” he says as he hands Jongin a blanket.  “You’re… different.”  

 

The Jongin he wrote to when he was younger was, well, a nerd.  Small, scared, in need of protection.  This Jongin… Well, he’s still scared and probably in need of protection, but at least he’s tall now.  And handsome.  Kyungsoo has to take a step back to look him in the eye.  

 

“Am I?” Jongin asks, a little nervous but also a little amused.

 

His voice… Kyungsoo has to take a deep breath.  Now _that’s_ a voice.  He gives himself a second to collect his feelings before offering a simple, “Yeah.”

 

+

 

It’s been a few days, mostly filled with Kyungsoo working and Jongin sitting on the couch watching Exoplanet TV.  He sees lots of weird shows, shows about crazy alien creatures that Jongin never could have imagined, other shows about what they imagine Earth would be like.  It’s kind of…. Unsettling.

 

Eventually, he builds the courage to ask Kyungsoo for some pencil and paper.  Here, at least, he’s mostly free from distractions.  No cell phone has its perks.  

 

When Kyungsoo comes home from work, sweaty and dressed in sweats, he heads past Jongin to take a shower before starting dinner.  Jongin likes watching Kyungsoo cook; there’s something disgustingly domestic about it that makes his heart feel warm.  

  


“Hey, sleepyhead.”  There’s hands on his shoulders, rustling him awake.

 

Jongin groans, burying his head in his arms, but the hands won’t go away.

 

“C’mon, dinner’s ready.  Eat up.”

 

Now that he mentions it, something does smell really good.  Jongin’s eyes snap open, and there’s Kyungsoo’s amused face inches away.

 

“You have a little…”  Kyungsoo reaches forward, and Jongin instinctively moves away but he follows him, brushing his thumb against his cheek.  “Charcoal,” he explains, showing his thumb as proof.

 

“Um, oh.”  Jongin’s face feels like it’s on fire.  “Right.  I’ll…..wash up.”  

 

He climbs to his feet, but Kyungsoo’s hand on his wrist stops him.  “Hey, is this me?”  

 

Jongin is sweating.  “Um.  Yeah.  Sorry.”  He feels like a creep, but Kyungsoo is in awe.

 

“This is so good.  Your proportions are spot on.”  Kyungsoo browses the papers.  “Wow, Jingo, I had no idea you were _this_ talented.”

 

Jongin’s sweat glands are like Niagara Falls right now.  He excuses himself to the bathroom to wash his face, and when he comes out, Kyungsoo has pinned his drawings to the fridge.

 

+

 

“Hey,” Kyungsoo says one day.  “I have to go see a friend on mine today and bring him some stuff.  Are you down for seeing the world?”

 

Jongin stares at him.  The world.   _His_ world.  Kyungsoo’s world that Jongin created but like… in real life?  Or something?

 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Kyungsoo adds quickly.  “It’s just Chanyeol, and he can be kind of....”

 

Nodding slowly, Jongin rises.  “Yeah.  I’d love to go.”

 

The trip from the mountains to the fire kingdom is a blur.  Kyungsoo drew some runes on Jongin’s back with a (literally) magic marker, made him put on this weird black cloak that made Jongin feel like he was in an occult, and sprayed him with God knows what (“Humans smell,” he said as explanation).  

 

When they finally get there, he doesn’t know what to think.  As someone who’s taken years of writing classes, Jongin thinks he should be able to make some good observations.  Alas, he’s at a loss for words.

 

The fire kingdom is very, erm… hot.  Jongin doesn’t consider himself a sweaty guy, but from the second they cross the border he’s already breaking a sweat.  

 

The man awaiting them at the mouth of the staircase doesn’t really look like someone preparing to rule a kingdom in his big, black hoodie with the stain on the hem.  He’s tall and lanky with elfish ears and a big smile, and his hair is like fire around his head in its various red and orange hues.  

 

“I brought your junk,” Kyungsoo says, shaking the box in his arms for effect.  It’s full of a bunch of greasy, unhealthy foods that he’s not allowed to eat as heir to the throne.  Something about being a bad influence.  

 

“I owe you my kingdom,” the prince says solemnly before he takes the box from Kyungsoo.  There’s something strangely familiar about the sight, but Jongin can’t put his finger on it.

 

“Are you gonna treat us to some fancy cake or what?” Kyungsoo deadpans.

 

Chanyeol laughs, loud and booming.  “Come on then, nerds,” he replies before leading them up the stairs.

 

It’s a long walk in a very hot house.  Jongin tugs at his collar more than once.  Why didn’t Kyungsoo warn him?  The runes he drew weren’t enough to prepare him for this heat.  He stares at their backs as he walks behind the two.

 

Chanyeol says something to Kyungsoo that Jongin doesn’t quite catch, and when Kyungsoo replies in an equally low voice, Chanyeol laughs so hard he has to stop to slam his hand on a table, setting the cloth on fire.  The servants are unaffected and move about in a way that makes Jongin think this isn’t the first time this has happened.  

 

“Uh, how much longer are we gonna walk?” Jongin asks when the walk has become too much.  The palace is _huge_.  He doesn’t know if he can make it any farther.  

 

Chanyeol looks at him for the first time, as if he somehow hasn’t realized Jongin’s existence.  “Oh my God.  Kyungsoo, you brought a friend that isn’t Baekhyun.”

 

Jongin tries not to look annoyed.

 

When Chanyeol holds out his hand, Jongin hesitates, but Kyungsoo puts a reassuring hand on his back so Jongin moves forward.  He’s expecting a handshake, but then Chanyeol pulls him into a hug.  His body swallows Jongin’s, and it’s vaguely similar to being covered in a safety blanket.  

 

“I’m Chanyeol,” he says in this low, warm voice kind of like the crackling of wood in a fireplace.  

 

“Jongin,” he replies.  He’s kind of uncomfortable now, a little too sweaty for such close contact, but Chanyeol still isn’t pulling away.  This is weird, right?

 

Kyungsoo clears his throat, and in lieu of an apology, Chanyeol says, “You smell human.”

 

“Must be my new shampoo,” Jongin deadpans.

 

“You’re funny,” Chanyeol decides, stepping back to look Jongin in the eye.  He looks him up and down.  “And you’re cuter than Kyungsoo.  I like you.”

 

“I’m right here, but okay,” Kyungsoo mutters.  

 

With a sweep of his gangly arm, Chanyeol offers, “How about a tour?  The new chef should be finishing up making the afternoon snack.  We can start in the kitchen.”

  


The “new chef” is a clumsy water elementalist.  His skin has taken a strange hue from the magic stopping him from drying out, but Jongin thinks he’s pretty handsome.  He introduces himself as Suho and offers them some cake, so Jongin decides he likes him.  

 

Chanyeol, however, seems to like him even more.  He can’t stop looking at him as he fumbles around the kitchen, and whenever Suho catches him looking his ears turn the same color as his hair.  

 

Cute, Jongin thinks.

 

+

 

Jongin and Kyungsoo have been staying together for a while now, and it’s been nice.  Kyungsoo cooks most of the meals and Jongin does the mundane chores like cleaning and washing clothes (which is way easier than back on Earth now that there’s no actual washing involved).   

 

Kyungsoo, it appears, works at a gym not as a trainer but as a yoga instructor.  He’s gotten really good at tolerating the heat that comes with hot yoga due to his friendship with the prince of the fire kingdom (He’s apparently burned off his eyebrows more than once).  

 

When he comes home, he’s sweaty and a little smelly, but Jongin likes it.  He’s seen the looks that Kyungsoo gets when they go out into public together; he knows that as a strength elementalist, Kyungsoo is expected to be more brawn than brains.  And yeah, Kyungsoo is strong.  But he’s so much more, and Jongin is so happy that he’s aware of that.  .

 

Today when Kyungsoo emerges from the shower, Jongin has dinner waiting for him.  It’s nothing special: spaghetti and meatballs, but Kyungsoo seemed touched anyway.  

 

“You made dinner?” He drops a capsule in each wine class and carries them over to the coffee table.

 

“Yeah! You seemed tired, so I wanted to do something nice for you.”  Jongin serves the food on the dishes and carries them over, mentally begging his feet to cooperate (and you know, not trip).

 

Kyungsoo is smiling so brightly, Jongin’s heart feels like it could burst.  “You didn’t have to do that.  You’re a guest here.”

 

“I’ve been staying with you for three whole intervals,” Jongin reminds him as he hands him a plate and fork.  “I pretty much live here.  I just wish I could provide some sort of income for you.”

 

“You’re here, you keep me company.”  He sips from the wine glass.  “What more could I ask for?”

  


Kyungsoo keeps staring at Jongin’s lips, and it _has_ to be the wine.  It’s not like Kyungsoo actually has feelings for him, Jongin tells himself.  Darn him and his excellent drink choices.  

 

“You know, Jongin, you’re not quite how I pictured you to be,” he’s saying, and he’s leaning closer and closer.  

 

Jongin is painfully self-aware.  He’s breathing quickly, in and out and in and out.  It’s so _loud_ and oh no, Kyungsoo can probably hear that.  Why is he so embarrassing?  Oh man.  What does he do?  He wants to get out, but at the same time he really _doesn’t_.  

 

“You grew up so well,” he says, and Jongin has to squeeze his eyes shut.  He can feel Kyungsoo’s breath on his face.  Oh God, oh _God_.  “You’re not my little Nini Bear anymore.”

 

Are they about to kiss?  Is this finally _it_?  Jongin can’t breathe.  Kyungsoo is so close, and he smells like soap and shampoo and wine.  

 

“Um, I’m gonna go to bed, if that’s okay,” Jongin finds himself saying, and then he’s gathering their plates and heading into the kitchen to rinse them off in the sink.  He doesn’t let himself look back, doesn’t let himself see the disappointed look in Kyungsoo’s eyes.

  
  


It’s been days, and Jongin has been dodging Kyungsoo at every turn.  Now that he’s been hooked up with one of those dandy watches that everyone on this crazy planet owns, he’s free to travel.  More often than not,  he’s gone before Kyungsoo even arrives.  Kyungsoo makes a mental note to write Chanyeol a strongly worded text.

 

The blankets on Jongin’s makeshift bed are folded and neat.  Since when does he know how to fold?  Kyungsoo frowns, and swipes his watch with his index finger to open up his texts.  

 

Chanyeol says Jongin wants to stay at his place for the night, which… is fine.  Right?  But couldn’t he have said something so Chanyeol wasn’t acting as middleman?

 

Whatever, Kyungsoo thinks.  It’s fine.  He doesn’t care.  He’ll eat the stupid apology chicken by himself.

 

+

 

When Jongin comes home, Kyungsoo is waiting on the couch for him.  He has two mugs in front of him; Jongin senses the trouble and begins to flee but Kyungsoo does The Thing with his watch that Jongin still doesn’t understand completely.  Nevertheless, the lock clicks.  

 

“Do you mind taking a seat?” Kyungsoo requests in a tone that makes it sound like it’s not exactly a request.  

 

“Um,” Jongin squeaks, dropping his bag on the floor.  He’s been caught.  “Yeah, okay.”  As he approaches the couch, his ears begin to burn like a child being scolded.  

 

“Why are you avoiding me?”  How completely and utterly _Kyungsoo_ of him to not bead around the bush and just dive right in.  

 

“I’m… not?” he lies.  Badly.  He hates himself.  

 

“Why are you staying at Chanyeol’s?”  

 

Jongin dares to look up from under his bangs, and he realizes that Kyungsoo isn’t angry.  Actually, he’s confused.  He’s looking at Jongin with furrowed eyebrows and his lower lip jutted out in bewilderment.  He lets out a sigh of relief.

 

“It’s just,” he hesitates.  “I was… nervous.”

 

“About what?”  Kyungsoo wrings his hands.  “Me?”

 

Jongin lowers his head in shame as he nods.

 

After a long moment of silence, Kyungsoo exhales through his nose.  “Jongin, if you didn’t want me to kiss you, you could have just said so.  You don’t need to avoid me; I’m not gonna force myself on you.  It’s totally fine if you don’t--”

 

“No,” he interrupts with force, playing with his thumbs.  

 

“No?” Kyungsoo echoes.

 

“It’s not that,” Jongin clarifies.  “I’m just…”  He pauses to search for the words, and Kyungsoo lets him.  “I’m awkward, okay?  And I like you, but I didn’t wanna mess it up so I just ran away.”

 

Kyungsoo is quiet, and Jongin won’t let himself look up.  He doesn’t want to see the look of disgust that he knows is on Kyungsoo’s face.

 

“I’m scared, okay?  I know it’s stupid.”  He glares down at his hands as if they’re the ones at fault.  “It’s just easier for me to run away from everything.  It’s gotten me this far.”  

 

He’s expecting Kyungsoo to make fun of him him, to kick him out, to laugh in his face.  But instead, Kyungsoo takes Jongin’s hands in his own.  

 

“That’s okay,” he speaks up for the first time in what feels like way too long.  “You can be scared.  It’s normal to be nervous about putting yourself on the line like this.”  

 

Kyungsoo is quiet for a little while, thinking, before he continues.  “You don’t need to be, though.  Scared, I mean.  I know taking the plunge is intimidating, but I’ll be there to catch you.”  

 

Jongin looks up, finally, and the look on Kyungsoo’s face is so sincere.  His heartbeat is thrumming in his ears, and honestly he feels like he might throw up.  But looking into Kyungsoo’s eyes, he feels like maybe this will be alright.

  


Jongin never really understood the appeal of kissing.  He’s experienced it, seen it, drawn it.  But he just…. Didn’t get it.  However, when he finally gets to kiss Kyungsoo, Jongin thinks to himself that this is something he could get used to.

  


+

 

Jongin likes days like this; Kyungsoo doesn’t have work until noon so they just relax in bed together.  There’s no need for unnecessary words: it’s just Jongin and Kyungsoo wrapped in cotton sheets.  

 

“Do you want breakfast?” Kyungsoo murmurs into the nape of his neck, and Jongin just hums.  He’s happy here.  "You should probably work on your webtoon."

 

The wall next to Kyungsoo’s bed is covered in photographs; there’s pictures of him, of Chanyeol, of Jongin.  It’s so….warm, so homey.  Jongin loves this wall.  It’s the only part of the house that doesn’t look like something he’s drawn.  

 

Kyungsoo holds him a little tighter and presses his lips to the crook of Jongin’s jaw, and then he’s moving away.  Jongin tries to chase him, but he’s too fast.  Kyungsoo pulls on a t-shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor and throws a change of clothes at Jongin.  “I’m gonna make food.  Don’t take too long in the shower.”

 

+

 

“Remember when you told me humans smell?” Jongin asks, his head resting on Kyungsoo’s lap.

 

Kyungsoo hums, softly dragging his nails in little patterns across Jongin’s scalp.

 

“What does that mean?  What do I smell like?”

 

He’s quiet for a while, thinking, and Jongin thinks he must not know what to say.  But then he begins, “Well, you know Chanyeol?  He’s a fire elementalist, so he smells kind of like burnt toast to me.  And his chef, Suho, smells like salt water.  My neighbor, Chen, is an electricity elementalist and he kind smells like… petrichor.”  

 

Jongin thinks those are some pretty nice things to be compared to.  Well, not Chanyeol’s, but he’s always been a little more like a campfire to Jongin.  Warm, cozy.  Promises of good snacks.  

 

“But you…” Kyungsoo pauses.  “You remind me of.... Freshly-washed laundry.  Of cotton sheets hanging on a clothes line in The Valley.  Of grass and flowers and sunshine.”

 

Jongin stretches, but it’s mostly to hide his blush.  “Really?”

 

Kyungsoo snorts.  “No, you smell like rotting garbage.” He flicks Jongin’s nose.  “Yes, really.”  

 

+

 

They’re at the supermarket.  Kyungsoo is trying to pick out the right type of meat for their stew and Chanyeol is wandering around somewhere.  Jongin is holding the basket and looking down at something that looks sort of like a tomato when suddenly, there’s a rough hand on Jongin’s forearm, yanking him away and knocking their vegetables to the ground.

 

“Now look what we’ve got here,” someone is saying, and then there’s another hand tugging at his hair, forcing him to stand still.  “Smells like human.”  

 

“Um,” Jongin is panicking.  He tries to twist to look at his captor, but all he manages to catch sight of are rows of sharp teeth and dark, empty eyes.  “Kyungsoo?”

 

“Looks good enough to eat,” a second voice says, forcing his head down.  

 

They’re strong, too strong, and Jongin can’t fight them.  They tear off his cloak that Kyungsoo gave him to protect him from the solar flares.  Humiliation burns in his eyes as the ripped fabric touches the floor.  

 

“Nini, do you--”  

 

Jongin looks up, just for a second, and there’s Kyungsoo, a step behind in the events, his arms still filled with groceries.  He blinks away tears as a hand forces his head back down by his hair.  

 

“What’s wrong, Kyungsoo?  Did you plan on saving this human all for yourself?” someone says, and Jongin vaguely processes that Kyungsoo knows these horrible people.  “You know food tastes better when you share it.”  

 

“Let him go,” Kyungsoo replies calmly, but his voice sounds like it does when he’s clenching his jaw.  A bad habit.  “Don’t make me ask twice.”  

 

There’s a snort.  “Come on, Soo.  You know better than to play with food.”  

 

“He isn’t _food_.”  There’s a rush of movement, and then Jongin is knocked onto the tile and he hears the crunch of bones being broken.  “He’s a person, you little--”  Kyungsoo’s voice distorts into a language that Jongin doesn’t understand.  

 

“Oh God, oh god.”  Chanyeol is here suddenly, pulling Jongin to his feet.  

 

“Get him out of here,” Kyungsoo growls.

 

“Wait, no,” Jongin says, but it’s too late; Chanyeol is pulling him away.  

 

“Keep your head down,” Chanyeol says, his voice the most serious Jongin has ever heard.  “Stand close to me so they don’t smell you.”

 

“But, Chanyeol.  My cloak,” Jongin reminds him as they reach the doors.  Chanyeol is moving too fast and he can’t keep up; his knees burn from being scraped on the stone tiles.  

 

“The flares are bad today,” Chanyeol murmurs.  “Keep up.”  

 

Then they’re _running_ , dodging people in the city.  Jongin doesn’t even know where he’s going, just chases Chanyeol’s back.  There’s a loud _boom_ echoing through the air, and then Chanyeol is cursing.  

 

“What’s happening?” Jongin shouts over the noise.  

 

“We have to hurry,” is all he screams in return, but the panic in his voice reaches Jongin nonetheless.   

 

There’s another boom, closer, and then another and suddenly Jongin is off his feet.  Wind whistles through his hair, and then _impact_.  His ears ring for a while, and when he gathers his bearings he realizes there’s a pressure on his chest.  

 

“Chanyeol,” he croaks.  There’s blood streaked across his cheek.

 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol is saying.  “You’re okay.  We’re gonna be okay.”  He covered Jongin from the blast.   _He saved him_.  

 

“Are _you_ okay?”  Jongin squints.  The area around them is filled with dust; he can’t see any buildings.  

 

“I’m okay, and you will be, too.”  Chanyeol touches Jongin’s forehead with his fingertip, tracing something with the dirt.  The skin tingles where he’s touched.  “Don't worry. I’ll see you soon, Jongin.”  

 

The last thing he sees is Chanyeol hovering above him; warm, protective.  His safety blanket.   

 

+

 

Jongin wakes up feeling like he's been run over by a truck.  For a while, he just stares at the wall beside his bed.  He doesn’t know why, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is missing.  It just looks so...empty.  He shivers, drawing the sheets closer to himself.  

 

When he rolls over, he fumbles for his phone and sees that it isn't even 10am.  There is literally no reason for him to be awake right now.  He pulls the sheet over his head and squeezes his eyes shut.  Why does his bed feel so... big?  He's restless, longing itching under his skin.  He doesn't remember ever feeling like this before.

 

With a long sigh of regret, he forces himself out of bed and pads into the living room.  As his laptop hums to life, he thinks about how bare his walls are.  Maybe he should hang some paintings.  His coffee table could probably be updated, too.

 

He has 30 unread texts from his manager, ranging from “WhE R E IS YOUR UPDATE?” to “WHA T DO YOU M E A N YOU FINSHED THE SERIE SIN ONE NGIHT???/”

 

Jongin doesn’t really remember drawing it out, nor does he remember Yixing and Jongdae coming over to help beta it.  But, either way, it’s done.  It’s time for a new beginning.  A huge weight has been lifted off his chest.

 

He’s just settled into the couch when there’s a knock on the door.  Jongin stumbles over an empty bucket of chicken on his way because he’s forgotten his glasses, but he gets there eventually.

 

“Good morning!”  the delivery man is tall, lanky, and very cheerful.  

 

Jongin squints at him.  There’s something strangely familiar about him, but he can’t put his finger on it.  

 

“Just sign here, please.”  He holds out a box with a tablet on top for him to sign.

 

“Okay, thanks…” He leans closer to read the man’s name tag.  “Chanyeol?”

 

“Yep, that’s my name,” he confirms, but there’s something in his tone like he’s dangling a treat and Jongin is just too slow to catch it.  

 

“Thank you, Chanyeol.”  He signs his name quickly and hands it back.  

 

Chanyeol smiles, bright and blinding to the point that Jongin has to look away.  “No problem, Mr. Kim! It was nice to see you again.”  He glances down, and his eyebrows furrow together.  “Those are some rough battle wounds, Mr. Kim.  Make sure you clean those up.”

 

Belatedly, Jongin realizes he’s not wearing pants.  Again.  He looks down and sees his knees are all scraped up.  He doesn’t remember doing that.  “Oh, uh, yes.”  He clears his throat, and if Chanyeol notices his embarrassment he’s kind enough not to comment.  “Thank you, Chanyeol.”

 

“Have a nice day!”  His smile is blinding, and Jongin can’t get the deja vu feeling out of his head.  “And tell your new neighbor I said hello.”

 

A new neighbor?  Jongin watches Chanyeol make his way down the hallway.  He doesn’t remember his landlord saying anything about a new neighbor.  

 

As if on cue, Jongin hears the click of a lock next door.  He turns, in slow motion, to face a short, muscular man with painfully familiar eyes.  

 

“Hi,” he says, and his voice sounds like honey.  “My name is Kyungsoo, but my friends call me D.O..”


End file.
